One Bite at a Time

Wednesday, December 13, 2017

OBAAT: I’m not a fan of a lot of neo-noir, where I think some writers like to
revel in their characters’ depravity. To me, Jake is the classic noir
protagonist. Someone who makes a bad decision for what might seem like a
good—or at least excusable—reason to him at the time, after which everything
turns to shit. It’s not that he makes bad choices as the book progresses. He
makes the best choices available to him at the time. Damn right I rooted for
him. What makes you pull for a character when you’re reading?

LE: I didn’t know what neo-noir was before your explanation, but I’m with
you in not being a fan of that, Dana. A few years ago, I was sent a novel by a
newer writer for me to blurb and there was no frickin’ way. It read like this
guy just picked up on all the salacious and stereotypical elements of bad guys
and gave them all to his character and his story. It was clear he hadn’t read
much and mostly it looked like he’d read a lot of so-called noir that had
lately sprung up and thought that was his secret to success—just have his guy
do every nasty thing in the world and that’s what noir was. I turned him down
and told him why. I also told him that I thought he had some talent and that if
he ever wanted to I’d be happy to read a new work if it wasn’t like that first
one. To his credit, he did just that and the next novel he sent me was much
better and very unlike that first piece of crap he sent. Nowadays, he’s a
regular member of the “noir community” and shows up at the bar at B-Cons and
has even served as a co-publisher with another writer for a small indie press.
He’s not the best writer in the world, but he does pen a craftsman-like novel
these days and I like most of his work.

Now, to your
question—what makes me pull for a character I’m reading. First, that he has a
story problem I feel is both interesting as well as compelling. If his story
problem is some bullshit thing, I’m out of there quickly. If it looks like
something that could happen to any of us then I’m in. I want to see him make
intelligent choices. Those choices may turn out badly (and probably will), but
the first time he makes a dumb decision, I’m outta there. Like I preach to my
students, “Your protagonist should always make the decision or choice a person
of at least average intelligence would make.” Amen. Someone who makes a choice
that no logical person would make will have to carry on without me. That’s just
a lazy, unimaginative writer behind that character.

There’s a movie I
use to illustrate this. This was an actual movie that opened in theaters and
later made the late-night TV circuit. I saw it in the theater and walked out
halfway through it and asked for my money back. I didn’t get it, but did see
the rest of it on TV a few years later and saw concrete proof that I was right.

The setup of this
godawful movie was that there was this new-fangled office building in town that
had a unique security system. The entire building was shut down on Friday
evening and didn’t open back up until Monday morning. That established, the
movie begins with this couple trapped inside this building with a bad guy after
them. Why he’s after them I forget but it doesn’t matter. He is and that’s all
that counts. The first half of the movie is mostly what my wife calls a
“chasey-fighty” movie. This couple is all over this building—up and down
staircases, elevator shafts, whatever. They keep barely escaping his evil
clutches each time until—halfway through the movie—they run into this large
office space that’s being remodeled. There are stacks of lumber all over, building
supplies and tools everywhere they look. The guy finds a nail hammer and they
hide behind a pile of lumber to wait and bushwack the bad guy. Which he does.
It works out perfectly. The bad guy walks around the lumber pile and the good
guy whacks him on the head with the nail hammer and he’s knocked out. The
couple kiss and embrace, clearly with tongues and at this point one assumes the
movie’s over. But, it’s only been going on for less than an hour! What the
heck?

Here’s where the
movie completely falls apart and where I walked out and asked for my money
back. (Note to younger, less-experienced readers: Theaters never give refunds,
no matter how pathetic the product they just sold you is.)

I use this movie in
my classes to illustrate just how stupid Hollywood can be at times. I simply
ask them if this was you and your significant other, what would you do at this
point? You know this guy is out to kill you both and you know you’ve got the
drop on him and he’s clearly knocked out. It’s only Saturday so you know you’ve
got another day and a half before the building can release you. So, what do you
do?

I get the same
answers every time.

1. I’d kill him.

2. I’d find
something to tie him up with (clearly possible as they’re in a room with all
kinds of building supplies and tools and plenty of things to tie him up with.

3. I’d take turns
with my partner in watching him, and every time he begins to stir whoever is
watching him would bop him on the head again and knock him out.

That’s about the
extent of the suggestions. All of these answers represent what a person of at
least average intelligence would do. The litmus test of what to base your
protagonist’s actions on. Never does anyone suggest what these movie geniuses
actually do. Which is to throw the nail gun down and run away to hide again.

This is when I made
my way to the lobby. That I was the only one to do so was discouraging. It kind
of told me where our educational system was and where our country was headed…

The rest of the
movie is the resumed chase which they “miraculously” win at the very end. Too
late for me. My fear is that these mesomorphs will mate and it’s for sure their
progeny is going

to emerge from the shallow end of the gene pool and probably end up running our educational systems. Anyone who sat through the end of this if they have any active gray matter left, simply has to begin rooting for the bad guy. He’s the only one with any living brain cells left.This was a for-real movie and what’s sad, this kind of thing isn’t that rare in movies or in novels. Too often a writer isn’t really much of a writer and opts for manipulating a plot like this guy did instead of doing the hard work of actually writing. Life’s too short to waste on these clowns.

OBAAT: More than most writers, you’re someone whose next book might be about
anything. Crime, comic crime, memoir, writing instruction. (Note to aspiring
writers: If you haven’t read Hooked,
stop reading right now and get thee a copy. It’s not Les’s only instructional
book, but it starts at the beginning, where all books should start.) How do
decide which of the ideas that are pushing for attention gets written next?

LE: That’s easy, Dana. It’s the book that I’m most interested in at the
time. Just about all of my agents have thrown up their hands at the way I work.
More than one have begged me to create a series and I could never do that. I
know it hurts my so-called career as that’s the way you build an audience, but
I just can’t work like that. Writing to me isn’t just my “job”—it’s my life,
and I have the rare opportunity to do what I enjoy doing in life. Writing the
same character over and over just seems… what’s the word?... oh, yeah… boring.
That’s just me and I don’t have anything against those writers who write
series. It’s just something that’s alien to my world.

For one thing, if
you write a series based on a character, it’s very difficult to create a
character arc for the protagonist and that’s important to me. A novel series is
more like a TV series than anything else. The protagonist in a television
series remains largely unchanged. They’re more akin to short stories than
novels. A contemporary short story only reveals a small truth, unlike the
structure of former eras. The same for series television. Sam, the bartender in
Cheers, learns a small lesson each week and seems to be somewhat transformed,
but when the next week’s episode rolls around, he’s the same old Sam. To me,
that’s boring writing and while I enjoy that kind of thing somewhat, it’s all
surface entertainment and not anything profound. I’d rather try for profound
and fail than have as my goal a lot of readers and money. I never want to be
that shallow. And, I feel that to create monetary success in writing means
writing to the lowest common denominator, i.e. surface entertainment, and
that’s not something that interests me in the least.

Money has never
been my goal. I’ve walked out on several opportunities to make a lot of money
only because it was boring and I viewed it as an artificial way of living a
life. I sold life insurance at one point and walked away from a job that would
have made me a millionaire. I stuck it out for a year and was at the top of the
game and saw how ridiculously easy making money was if I just kept doing the
same thing, but just couldn’t face another day of doing something just to make
my life comfortable. After all, how many cars can one drive at once, how many
houses can one live in at the same time, how many possessions are enough? None
of those things have ever mattered to me. I’m sorry, but my personal opinion of
those who settle for this kind of life is that they’re basically cowards. (This
isn’t going to win me many friends, is it? Like I give a shit…) Nowadays, I
have to confess to a bit of regret as I have no income other than Social
Security and the bit I make from book royalties and from the online class I
teach and if I can no longer teach I’ll probably end up homeless, but that’s
not the worst fate in the world. I’ve been homeless at various times of my life
and it wasn‘t all that bad and I survived. I firmly believe I’d still not trade
a bit of security at the end of my days for selling my soul to work at
something I didn’t enjoy or believe in. And, I just don’t believe in being
Salesman of the Month. I do believe in creating a book that affects people’s
lives. And, not just “people’s” lives, but intelligent people’s lives. I
confess to not have much interest in the average person. The average person is
largely boring and I think that most are average by choice. Often, they simply
don’t want to take any chances in their lives so their averageness isn’t being
average at all, but being a coward. Who needs people like that? Other than
politicians and ministers… I’ve been blessed
to have impacted the thinking of extraordinary people with a few of my books
and that means far more to me than any pension plan or late-model car. And I
realize that’s a rare philosophy and one that most would be unable to follow,
but that’s all right. I never want to be like most people. Most people I think
aren’t all that happy and have a bunch of regrets. I don’t have many regrets at
all.

My next book is
always going to be the one that interests me the most.

I’ve consistently
enjoyed the new format of these interviews, but none has made me want to sit
down with an adult beverage and discuss writing and the world more than this
one. I hope you’ve enjoyed this time with les Edgerton as much as I have. Thanks,
Les. You’re The Man.

Friday, December 8, 2017

I first encountered
Les Edgerton at the Albany Bouchercon, where he read a brief poem at a Down
& Out Books event. It was my first encounter with Down & Out, too, so
that may have been the most fortuitous half hour of my life. (Certainly of my
writing life.) Since then we’ve gotten to know each other and spend some time
together, notably in Long Beach, where he joined me (along with Tim Hallinan
and John McFetridge) in a reading.

Les is a fine man,
a wonderful writer, and someone I’m proud to call a friend. When I heard he had
a book coming out and realized how it’s been since we chatted, I hit him up
right away. As always, he graciously agreed.

One Bite at a Time: Les, I can’t decide which is the bigger
treat: having you on the blog or hearing you have a new book out. Let’s start
with the book. Tell us a little about Just Like
That.

Les Edgerton: Good question, Dana. The reason I wrote Just Like That was that I just got tired
of watching movies and reading novels that without fail got the criminal
mindset wrong. I know it’s not their fault; they just aren’t criminals
themselves and like a lot of people, many novelists and filmmakers are perhaps
a bit lazy. By that, I mean many don’t bother to do the work of research and
therefore depend on their idea of the criminal from the books and movies they
themselves have experienced. In other words, they simply keep perpetuating the
same inaccuracies and myths and stereotypes over and over. And, today’s authors
as a group are lazier than in any other era in literary history, in my opinion.
It’s not just about criminals. Here’s an example of what I see as a universal
reluctance to do much research. Just yesterday I was reading a novel from a
bestselling author who had his character smelling cordite. This is the eighth
novel I’ve read this year that has character smelling cordite. Jesus! Each
time, I think the same thing: Moron. And, each one was from a well-known author
and most were from legacy publishers with supposedly quality editing. It’s just
a case of writers who seem to believe everything they read to be true or
accurate and never questioning anything. Research today is infinitely easier
than at any time in history with the Intergnat, and yet none of these writers
could spend ten seconds Googling “cordite?” If they had, they would have
learned that the manufacture of cordite ceased shortly after WWII and that it
was a component of British ammo, not U.S. And, what editor worth his or her
title doesn’t do the research these writers couldn’t be bothered with? The
answer is the same kind of editor who is just as lazy as the writer they’re
editing… We simply live in an age of lowered expectations and quality.

I’m just using
cordite as a good example of how many contemporary writers are either lazy or
just plain sloppy in their writing. When I began writing, it was considered a
terrible thing when a writer made a factual mistake in their novels. The
consensus was that once a fact was wrongly presented, the reader couldn’t
believe anything else in the novel. Nowadays, that mindset of quality seems to
have largely disappeared.

I’ve only been
approached by a handful of writers who wanted to know the truth of the criminal
mindset or the veracity of their jail or prison scenes. The first was Ray Banks
and the other one who springs to mind is Anthony Neil Smith. I seem to remember
another writer who bothered to ask me about the veracity of a criminal action
or setting but can’t recall who it was. Probably Paul Brazill—that’s the kind
of thing Paul would do.

And, that’s it.
That’s kind of sad, I think, that so many writers writing crime novels never do
any actual research about the characters or the milieu they’re creating. It
seems to be common for most writers to research how cops work and all that, but
it seems to be okay with most to base their characterizations of criminals and
outlaws along the same flawed characterizations in previous flawed books and
movies.

So, that’s my
long-winded answer to the question you posed, as to what was “the point of the
book and how I approached it.” Simply put, the average outlaw or criminal often
doesn’t expend a lot of time or energy in pondering a crime, but more often
than not just does it on the spur of the moment. Just like that…

Cathy Johns, then
the assistant warden of The Farm (the state prison at Angola, La.) read the
book and told me that it was “the truest depiction of the criminal mind she’d
ever heard.” That meant more to me than any other comment about the book. It
told me that I’d succeeded in what I set out to do with it.

OBAAT: You saved me from myself when you read the ARC of my next book and
pointed out a mistake I made regarding handwriting analysis, for which I’m
grateful. You do quite a bit of teaching. What’s the toughest thing to get
through to a fledgling writer?

LE: Another easy question, Dana. Without fail, it’s the lack of knowledge
of story structure. Most beginning writers seem to be at least basically
proficient in things like description, characterization, dialog, and those bits
and pieces of the craft, but are often clueless as to what a story consists of.
They know the pieces of writing, but not the structure and how to apply those
pieces properly. Think about it—you don’t get to Carnegie Hall with your name
on the marquee by knowing how to play the oboe only—you get to Carnegie by
creating a symphony. In writing, that symphony is a novel.

In our class, we
require everyone to create a short outline for their novel, consisting of five
statements and 15-20 words. None of those Roman numeral monstrosities that go
on for page after page. The reason I insist on this is that past experience
tells me that if they don’t have a basic plan for their book and don’t begin in
the right place, we’re all going to end up wasting our time. Their “novel” is
most likely going to peter out after 60-80 pages and from that point on they’re
going to be desperately trying to resuscitate a corpse. The first week of class
they can only send in their outline and the first five pages of their novel.
Two things I’ll look for. That their outline clearly begins with the inciting
incident and that their first five pages are on one thing only—the inciting
incident they’ve described in their outline. If clear evidence of that isn’t
there, they’ve just begun what students have termed our “Inciting incident
hell.” I’ve only had one student in over ten years of these classes ever escape
inc inc hell. And that was a person in our present class.

Occasionally, I’ll
get a new student who seems proud that they’re a “pantser.” That seems to mean
to them that they’re the captain of their destiny and that creating an outline
somehow makes them less creative or something. Often, they’ll quote someone
like Hemingway who also claimed to never outline. Only… he did. He didn’t call
them outlines. He called them “Draft 1” and “Draft 2” and “Draft 9” but in
truth, they were all outlines. Just kind of longish ones, at around a hundred
thousand words…

Our outlines
consist of five statements. The first describes the inciting incident. The next
three describe the three major turns almost all novels go through. The fifth
describes the resolution. Personally, I wouldn’t start driving to Adak, Alaska
without a map, having never driven there before. With my sense of direction I’d
probably end up in L.A, and…no thank you… I like flavor in food too much to
want to join the ruminants in California…The outline we use is the barebones
but it accomplishes several things. It gives us a roadmap for a lengthy novel.
If the novel decides to take a major turn as they sometimes do, no problem. We
just take ten minutes and adjust the outline and we still have a good map. It
used to take me a year to two years to write a novel—with this kind of outline
I can write a better one in three months. I’m not wasting time driving down
back roads…

And, it works for
all forms. I used the same outline to write a short story, a novel, and a screenplay
all on the same story—The
Genuine, Imitation, Plastic Kidnapping. Didn’t have to change a word of
the outline and all three are very different in many ways. However, they all
share the same skeleton. (Editor’s Note: This book is laugh-out-loud funny. I
shit you not.)

I had a student
come to us years ago with an already-completed 400-page novel. (Not uncommon).
She ended up spending ten weeks in inc inc hell before I’d allow her to be
passed into writing beyond that. This was when our class was twelve weeks and I
was teaching it as an accredited class for Phoenix College. She had two weeks
left to go in the class and was still trying to get her first five pages
written. She finally nailed it in the eleventh week. She went on in subsequent
classes to finish that novel and when done, I helped her land an agent and that
agent helped her get a three-book contract. That 400-page book she’d come to
class with was long-ago buried in her back yard where it belonged. It was one
of those episodic messes that beginning writers often create. She’s currently
penning her fifth and sixth novels for Midnight Ink and you may have read her.
Her name is Maegan Beaumont. We have many similar stories in our class—more
than two dozen of our students have ended up publishing their books and
publishing legitimately—not via some vanity or self-publishing venue, but with
real publishers.

So, understanding
what the inciting incident is and how important it is to a novel’s success is
the single toughest thing to get across to a beginning writer. And, often to a
writer further along in the process.

OBAAT: I tend to roll my eyes when people talk about “important books,” or
“books that had an influence on your life.” Your novel The Bitch
is one of two exceptions that come to mind. (David Simon’s The Corner is the other.) In your context The Bitch refers to habitual offender statutes, better known as
“three strikes and you’re out” laws. I could go into this at length but I’d
rather you give everyone the point of the book and how you approached it.

LE: Another great question. I wrote The
Bitch for the same reasons I wrote Just
Like That. And, I’d like to include The Rapistin that group. I couldn’t find a book
that accurately portrayed the criminal or outlaw realistically. The closest I
found was Charles Bukowski’s short story, “The Fiend.” Just about all other
writers I’ve read who write about criminals I can’t see as really knowing or
understanding the criminal mind. When I was getting my MFA, one of my advisors,
Diane Lefer, asked me what I thought about the writer Denis Johnson. My reply
was that I thought he was a fine writer but didn’t have a clue how criminals
thought or their motivations. His writing made me think this was a college guy
who spent a couple of nights in the drunk tank and now thought he understood
outlaws. And, sorry, but that’s how I see a lot of writers who write about
crime. It’s not a crime not to understand the criminal mind, but I think it is
a crime not to try to find out how we think and why we act in the ways we do.
Most writers, if they’re not cops themselves, take the time to research police
procedures and cops’ mores, but seldom do they bother to do the same with the
criminals in their books or films.

Most seem to
approach crime the way most social workers do. They try to fit statistical
observations into a picture of the criminal mind. That’s why you get these
cockamamie theories like “poverty creates criminals.” And, create programs to
do away with poverty and then wonder why the criminal rates don’t go down that
much. Or, they see abusive parents and how some of their offspring end up being
outlaws and assume that’s the cause and feel if they take the kids away that’ll
solve the problem. The problem with that is that it only accounts for a portion
of the reason some turn to criminal activities. They don’t seem to wonder much
why others from the same backgrounds of experiences turn out not to be
criminals.

This seems to be
the mindset of many crime fiction writers. That the criminal’s background is
what led them to their lives of crime. Conveniently, they “forget” the other
members of that criminals same family who turned out to be law-abiding
citizens.

If social workers
and novelists investigated further than most do, they might discover the real
reason some turn to crime and others with the same backgrounds don’t.

Almost all criminal
acts are the result of a sense of loss of control in some aspect of their
lives. The armed robber is in control of his fate when he holds a gun on a
store clerk. For that moment, he has reached a place where he’s in control. The
rapist feels in control when he’s raping a girl. And, so on. The same
experience affects similar people in diverse ways. The child who was sexually
abused by his father as was his brother, might grow up to feel out of control
in his life and discover the only way to regain control is by imitating what
his father did to him. His brother, while experiencing the same abuse, may have
found another way to regain control in his life.

The child who grew
up in poverty might discover that by taking wealth from others, he at least
momentarily regains control over his world. His sibling, undergoing the same
experiences in childhood, might have discovered another means of gaining
control over his life and not feel the same need to rob others as his brother
does.

The thing is, it’s
almost always a matter of a sense of control or the lack of control in a
particular segment of their lives. This is why most social programs have
limited success and why novelists writing criminals also experience limited
success in creating characters. They’ve simply ignored or been unaware of the
other factors creating individuals.

That’s what I was
interested in showing in The Bitch.
When it begins, Jake does what he does because he thinks he believes in the
concept of loyalty. As events transpire, he eventually learns that what drives
him and his actions isn’t his sense of loyalty, but of his sense of survival.
Once he learns that about himself, he is then able to change. Which he does in
the final scene. He willingly enters a situation—actually, he creates a
situation in which he’ll be killed. He’s come to discover through his journey
that there is something more important than survival and that he’s built his
entire life on a false value. And, that’s what a novel should be about, in my opinion—a
significant change in the protagonist’s life as a result of his struggle to
resolve a problem. Jake’s not going to end up like Sam in Cheers, but as a
completely changed person. Albeit… room temperature...

What was rewarding
to me was the tremendous amount of emails and letters I received that all said
the same thing. That they couldn’t help rooting for Jake throughout the story,
even though at every single turn he was doing horrible things to others. While
they didn’t condone the things he did, they understood that he was almost
forced to do them and they understood why and all throughout the read they kept
hoping he’d find a way to not only survive but end up as a good person. That
the only thing that made him do bad things wasn’t that he was a bad person but
that he was only given bad choices. That told me that I’d succeeded in creating
a real character who was a true criminal but not a one-dimensional cardboard
character. Jake wasn’t a Snidely Whiplash, but a real human being.

Come back next
Wednesday for Part Two of my conversation with Les Edgerton.

Wednesday, November 29, 2017

John McNally is the
closest thing to a writing teacher I’ve had. (No, I don’t blame him and neither
should you.) We met when I was accepted into the Jenny Moore McKean workshop at
George Washington University while I was working on the book that would become A Small Sacrifice, which was eventually
nominated for a Shamus Award, so thank you for that, John.

One Bite at a Time: Let’s get right to it. You’ve written
fiction, books on various aspects of writing (more on those later), and edited
anthologies. What was it that got you to thinking about writing a memoir?

John McNally: In a concentrated period of time, three
things happened in my life: I got divorced, my father died, and I took a new
job that was 900 miles away. For the first time in almost twenty years, I
decided to take a break from writing. I was burnt out writing fiction. I was
burnt out doing pretty much anything, truth be told. But during that break, a
friend asked me to write a short personal essay, no longer than 750 words, for
a column he was editing, and I thought, okay, sure. I can do 750 words. What I
realize now -- but didn't then -- was that once I start writing about myself, a
small detail will unlock another memory that I had shoved aside, and the more I
wrote, the more that those things I had forgotten about came back to me. And so
I kept writing. My father looms over this book in ways that I hadn't
anticipated, but it's because my father had always been -- and still is -- an
enigma to me. I didn't cry when he died, and it bothered me that I didn't. And
I still haven't. But this book is, in part, my attempt to understand our
relationship better, even if I didn't realize that when I was writing it.

OBAAT: I have small autobiographical elements in my writing, but they’re
things like time spent with my daughter or my parents. I can’t imagine opening
a vein like you did. Was it intimidating once you realized you’d made a
commitment to yourself to release it to the public?

JM: Very intimidating. But then I think, okay, so...how much longer do I
have to live if this doesn't go over well? It's the same mindset as when I
started getting tattoos at fifty. I'm actually a pretty private person. People
will sometimes compliment me for how open I am about things on Facebook, so I
guess I give the illusion of not being private, but what I reveal about myself
on social media is probably one percent of my life. There are all kinds of
things I don't talk about. I don't talk about my ex-wives or current
relationships; I don't talk about teaching; I will talk about depression but
not when I'm in the throes of it; I don't talk much about books or writing; and
for as much as I bash Trump I never mentioned who I supported even if it's
obvious. So, it does make me nervous to be so open in the new book. My
forthcoming book on failure also has a lot of personal stuff in it, but in that
book I talk about the importance of risking something of yourself when you
write, and I certainly tried to do that in The
Boy Who Really, Really Wanted to Have Sex. I had a teacher who once posed
this question to the class: "What's at stake for you in this?" That's
probably become the single most important piece of writing advice I've
received. Not what's at stake for the character but what's at stake for you?

OBAAT: I’ve noticed that about you on Facebook, how open and entertaining you
are about some things—tacos, cats, and vinyl, for example—but say little or
nothing about the rest of your life. Has writing the memoir led you to feel
more or less open in general? We all re-evaluate some things about our lives as
we age. Are there things you now look at differently than you might have if you
hadn’t written The Boy Who?

JM: I'm definitely not more open now. Maybe less open. As for looking at
things differently...yes, definitely. It's difficult not to spend a few years
writing about your childhood without coming to some realizations about why you
are the way you are now. I've become more aware over the years that I have a
compulsive personality, but writing the book illuminated for me the ways in
which my compulsive behavior began at a very young age, and how the
compulsiveness was often self-destructive or self-defeating. And then I saw how
my father also had a compulsive streak that was also self-defeating. The
patterns in my life became more obvious while writing the book. But I also
become more aware -- and I'm not saying this to pat myself on the back -- of
how much I had to overcome to get to where I am today. I'm sure compulsiveness
explains how I overcame overwhelming odds to get to this point. So it's not all
bad.

OBAAT: I think one of the things that attracts me to your writing is the
similarities of background we share. You’re from outside Chicago and I’m from a
semi-rural area near Pittsburgh, but we both have working class backgrounds and
understand a person does what needs to be done to get by. I see that in
everything you’ve written. Even the books about writing have a well-grounded,
“it’s a job before it’s anything else” feel to them. Is this something you’re
conscious about, or does it just come when you write?

JM: When I write fiction, my blue-collar upbringing influences nearly
every story I write because employment and money (or lack thereof) are usually
at the core of the story in a meaningful way. When I first began writing,
however, I had moved those working class issues to the forefront of my stories,
but the stories never worked. They came across as maudlin or didactic, but once
I simply put an interesting character into motion in a particular situation
that happens, they can't help but to be influenced by their background. As for
my own process, I believe in work. My father was a roofer; my mother, who had
grown up in a sharecropping family, worked in a factory. I've spent most of my
life teaching, but I've been working since the first grade, hustling to make a
buck doing any number of things. And so as a writer I don't sit around waiting
for the muse. The muse is a myth, in my opinion. Times when I'm inspired are
times when I'm working hard and I'm holding several disparate parts of a story
or novel in my head at once, and then something clicks that pulls it all
together; that's the result of working consistently so that my brain can begin
functioning like the flawed computer that it is, not because I was visited by a
muse. If you want a hole in the ground, you have to dig the hole. The hole
doesn't simply appear one morning.

OBAAT: The writer who tends to come to mind when I read a lot of your stuff
is Richard Russo. Same working-class sensibilities and similar dry senses of
humor. You have some experience with him, don’t you? Did he influence the
writer you’ve become?

JM: He was my undergraduate teacher my last semester of college. And then
he was responsible for hiring me back, after I'd gotten my MFA, to replace him
while he was on leave to write Nobody's
Fool. I can't say he influenced my subject matter. But he influenced me as
the kind of person I wanted to be. He's a good guy, a hard worker, and
genuinely supportive of younger writers. He's not a prima donna. In many ways,
the writers who've influenced me the most were because of their character. And
I think that transfers into one's writing. When you read Rick's novels, you
know you're in the hands of a generous writer. There's nothing precious or
cloying in his books.

OBAAT: As I mentioned before, this isn’t your first departure from fiction. Vivid and Continuous is as good a book
on craft as I’ve read, and I go back to it every couple of years for reminders.
The Creative Writer’s Survival Guide
occupies a unique niche, as far as I know: It’s a book on what writers need to
do when they’re not actually writing. Tell us a little about why you wrote
them.

JM: That's a high compliment, Dana. Thank you for that. The Creative Writer's Survival Guide
came about because my editor at the University of Iowa Press asked me if I'd be
interested in writing a book that answered common questions about writing. I
said, sure, but I wanted it to be opinionated. I wanted a personality behind
the writing. I didn't want to write something dry. And I wanted it to be
autobiographical. I wanted it to be coming from a guy you might meet in a bar
and not an expert. Iowa has been great to me. They let me write the books I
want to write, and I can live or die by it. The second book, Vivid and Continuous, was written in a
similar voice except that it's a craft book. I wanted to write about those
issues of craft that I hammer home to my students but that seem to get ignored
in textbooks. I'd already written some of those chapters for magazines or
public lectures, so the idea of putting it together as a book was the next
logical step. I have a third book coming out in the spring, tentatively titled
The Promise of Failure, and it's the one I'm most excited by, and it's
definitely the most person. It's a look at the role of failure in our work --
the positive role as well as the debilitating role. I teach part of the year in
a low-residency MFA program, and several years ago I began giving lectures on
failure, and they seemed to resonate, probably because it's a taboo subject. On
Facebook, people like to post about their successes. Rarely do you see someone
grappling with their failures. I have to say, in many ways these three books
have been the hardest books to write. I had to keep going back to ask myself, “Would
this make sense to someone with a basic knowledge on the subject? Would this be
interesting to someone with a sophisticated knowledge of the subject?” There's
a reason each book is shorter than the previous book!

OBAAT: A lot of writers have a concern that a writing teacher will try to
impose his style and philosophy of writing on them. I have first-hand
experience with you as a teacher, and you’re quite the opposite. I always felt
you were making a conscious effort to develop me into the best writer my
talents would allow. One thing that sticks in my mind was you noticing I had a
little trouble getting into and out of scenes, so you recommended I look at how
Ross Macdonald began and ended his chapters. Not that I do anything how—or as
well—as Macdonald, but I was able to see some of his technique there and adapt
the bits that suited my style. Long way around of asking what is it you look
for in a student and how do you decide which things to focus on, and what to
suggest?

JM: I try to follow the doctor's oath of "first, do no harm." I
certainly have my own aesthetic likes and dislikes. I champion accuracy over
cleverness, for instance. I see too much cleverness -- cheap cleverness -- so
I've grown suspicious of it. I'm always cautioning writers to get out of the
way of their own writing. That said, I try to take each piece of writing on its
own terms. I certainly don't want to turn my students into me. These days I
find myself asking larger questions, like, "Why this story? Tell me why
you're drawn to this material?" Mostly I ask those questions so I can see
better how to respond to the work. I work mostly with MFA and PhD students
these days, so it's easier for me to respond once I've seen a book's worth of
material. I look for patterns. I try to push them to risk more of themselves.
How can you be in the work without being in the way of it?

OBAAT: That’s a great point: “Why this story?” You’ve already talked about
the memoir as growing from a personal essay. In your fiction, what do you look
for in a story before deciding to spend so much time on it?

JM: I tell my students that our stories are smarter than we are. By this,
I mean that when you begin writing a story, you draw much of it from your
unconscious mind, so it makes sense that we often don't understand, on a
conscious level, why certain things creep into our work. I've learned to be
patient with the stories I write. I'm patient because I'm hoping that my
intellect -- that weak, lumbering tool -- will catch up to the savvier,
sneakier subconscious. In other words, I put faith in the fact that every story
I write is coming from some personal place, but in order for me to do it
justice, I have to unlock the images and metaphors and cryptic things within
it, which sometimes takes years. I have a batch of stories that I started six
years ago. I'm only now figuring them out. I have to find myself in there,
however obliquely I may appear. Once I find that, then the story's reason for
being becomes more urgent to me. I don't write for personal therapy, but I
think whenever you attempt art of any kind, the side-effect is that it's
illuminating something about yourself or the world you live in. That said, I
still honor story. The reader should feel that urgency of "Why this
story?" but not necessarily see it. So, what do I look for? I look for
something in a story that nags at me even while it's trying to elude me. I look
for a mystery within the story that only I can see. And then I want to solve
it.

Monday, November 6, 2017

There are times when life doesn’t just imitate art, it takes over. This
is one of those. I’m shutting down the blog for a bit while some things sort
themselves out. I’ll drop in from time to time and I have some interviews
queued up I’m as happy with as any I’ve ever done, but regular posts are going
on hiatus for a while.

Bouchercon 2017 was just a conference for The Beloved
Spouse™ and me the way Charlize Theron is attractive: way more than that. We
like car trips and Toronto was easily drivable for us, with other attractions
along the way. So here’s what else happened.

Monday October 9

Left at a reasonable hour as we had no place to be at any
given time. Drove through central Pennsylvania and western New York looking at
beautiful terrain with foliage not quite as spectacular as we expected (thanks,
climate change) but still plenty eye-catching. Got ourselves to the Microtel in
Niagara Falls late in the afternoon and needed a place to eat. The diner
recommended by the hotel clerk closed early so we figured we’re only twenty miles
from Buffalo, what better excuse for wings? So, from us to you, when in Buffalo
and hungry, check out the Buffalo Wing Joint and Pub on Niagara Falls
Boulevard. First rate and the fries with gravy were outstanding. (They offered
poutine but we decided to wait for the authentic Canadian version.)

Tuesday October 10

Niagara Falls on a beautiful day. Went to Goat Island then
took the stairs to Cave of the Winds where I went all the way to the edge of
the Hurricane Deck. (I don’t think it was a real hurricane deck. Jim Cantore
was nowhere around.) Got soaked but they let us keep the sandals, which are
comfortable and will serve as nice reminders of the trip.

Lunch was at Augie’s, the diner we missed the previous
night. A BLT club was very good and the perfect size. We crossed the Lewiston Bridge
into Canada (more on the bridge crossings next time) and were on our way around
the lake to Toronto. I adhered strictly to the speed limit and all traffic
laws, having no desire to end up in a Canadian prison even though it’s been
years since I saw Midnight Express.
Canadians drive just as fast as Americans, but I must admit, (relatively) slow
as I was going, no one tailgated me all the way to Toronto. I can’t get milk
here without some Helio Castroneves or Danica Patrick wannabe trying to give me
a vehicular colonoscopy.

We invested Tuesday afternoon and evening reconnoitering the
immediate area and eating dinner at the Duke of Richmond pub. Excellent bacon
cheeseburger.

Wednesday October 11

The Hockey Hall of Fame, baby! By far the nicest of the three
I’ve been to so far. (Basketball and football the others, though I confess I
was at the old basketball HOF on 1983.) Reasonably priced, even in the gift
shop, and more cool stuff than a hockey fan can take in. History and a good
take on the current game.

For those who are wondering, damn right I touched the Cup.
It’s not like I’m going to have any official capacity with an NHL team anytime
soon, so fuck the jinx. Kudos to Ryan (no last name on his badge) who knows
where everyone is on the plaques of honor. Literally. Just give him your team
and he’ll tell you where all your boys are, even if they just passed through.
Coming here would have made the whole trip worthwhile all by itself.

Dinner in the room, leftover chicken wings from the Buffalo
joint. A brief break, then Noir at the Bar at the Rivoli on Queen Street. The
perfectly seedy venue was packed and Rob Brunet and Tanis Mallow put on a hell
of a show. I stayed through the first two sets of readers and had a fine old
time breaking balls with John Shepphird and Scott Adlerberg. Had to leave a
little early, though, with a 10:00 panel on Thursday.

Thursday October 12: The Bar

We’ll cut directly to the bar. Hooked up with Kevin Burton
Smith and a reader named Keith Lastnameescapes me, attending his first Bouchercon.
(Sorry, Keith. It was a pleasure to meet you, though.) Peter Rozovsky was
there, too, but we didn’t get together at Noir at the Bar, so fuck him. Got to
talking Westerns with Gary Phillips and by the time we were done and I had time
to let things settle, I had pretty much the whole plot worked out. Now it’s
only a matter of finding time to write it.

Friday October 13: The Bar

Should have known trouble was brewing when I ran into The
Two Erics—Campbell and Beetner—before I even got to the bar. Within five minutes
Steve Lauden was there, then Mike McCrary, Gary Phillips, Lenny Kravitz
Danny Gardner, and then we started
drinking. The bar at Quinn’s already contained Eryk Pruitt, David Swinson, Dale
Berry, Keith from Thursday, and the inimitable, irrepressible, lovely and
talented Tim O’Mara. Tim got me drunk in New Orleans last year, but not as much
as this time. I can’t guarantee a great time was had by all, but I had enough
fun to cover several other people. (Special shout out to Alex, our waitress. I
asked her what they sold that was in the Bass/Newcastle Brown range and she
nailed it.)

Saturday October 14: The Bar

A quiet evening, though the wedding scene in The Deer Hunter would have been a quiet
evening compared to Friday. Stopped back into Quinn’s with John McFetridge and
his wife Laurie Reid, Seana Graham, Dave McKee, and fuck Peter Rozovsky. One
beer and one Arnold Palmer and I was out of there, Tim O’Mara’s best efforts
notwithstanding. (More kudos to Alex, who not only remembered me, but asked if
I wanted “the usual” when she came to take our orders. I felt like Norm there
for a second.)

Sunday October 15

One panel and the long drive home. Spectacular scenery
coming down I-99 through central Pennsylvania, no traffic, beautiful and my
best girl beside me. The perfect end to the perfect week. Many thinks to all
who contributed. Except for that prick Chappee. More about him in the next
post.

Wednesday, November 1, 2017

Ladybug Ladybug
(1963) This could have been good. Started out as a twist on a 60s nuclear
apocalypse story by taking the perspective of schoolteachers and the kids in a
rural school where communications aren’t very good and showed the kinds of
confusion that could result. That only lasted half an hour or so and things
deteriorated into the standard dreary end of the world 60s flick. The
highlights were seeing young versions of William Daniels, Estelle Parsons, and
Nancy Marchand.

Cool Hand Luke (1967)
One of those movies that gets better every time I see it. It operates on
multiple levels and works on all of them. George Kennedy richly deserved his
Oscar for supporting actor, and Paul Newman would have won Best Actor in most
other years; he lost to Rod Steiger for In
the Heat of the Night. Full of iconic scenes that hold together just as
well in another century, there are elements here that might be even more worthy
of attention today than fifty years ago.

L.A. Confidential (1997)
Another movie that gets better every time I see it. I can damn near recite the
whole thing now, which leaves me free to notice little things. I’ve written
about it before and I’m sure I will again. Without doubt one of the five
greatest crime films ever made.

The Imitation Game (2014)
Yet another one of those what gets better every time. Benedict Cumberbatch
plays Alan Turing, the man who led the team that broke the German Enigma
machine codes and shortened the war by as much as two years according to
British MI6. The film moves between Turing’s work at Bletchley Park, his days
in boarding school, and his arrest for homosexuality in 1951. It’s inspiring to
watch Turing struggle to complete his machine, heartbreaking to watch him lose
his only friend at school, and depressing to see how all his contributions to
the war effort meant nothing in the face of his homosexuality. It’s not just a
blight on British history, but a condemnation everyone needs to find a way to
get past.

Friday, October 27, 2017

The Beloved Spouse™
has commented more than once over the years about how little I drink, so it
seemed only right when I got back to the room a little after 1:30 Saturday
morning to shake her awake and say, “You’re always saying you’ve never seen me
drunk. Here’s your chance.” As might be expected, Friday’s night at the bar
placed the 8:30 Saturday panels in irretrievable jeopardy.

Saturday October
14

10:00 Anthony Best
Novel Nominees

Given this year’s
nominees, a good time was guaranteed, especially with Hank Phillippi Ryan as
moderator. No one disappointed. The highlights:

Reed Farrel Coleman
plays the movie of his book in his head then describes enough for the reader to
create his own.

Louise Penny didn’t
think her first book would be published, so all her decisions were made to
please herself. (Maybe this is why I don’t care for most best sellers: The
decisions are too obviously made to please the greatest number of people, of
which I am not one.)

Laura Lippman
understands she’s not going to write anything “new,” but sees her job as
engaging the reader who’s “read it all.” Plot is not enough. She’s always a
little embarrassed when people flatter her, doesn’t feel she’s deserving. She’s
always struck by the fact they gave her their time to read the book.

Laura Lippman: She
can’t write a better Mystic River
than Mystic River, but there are
other things she can do very well.

When Hank asked all
the panelists what they’re working on now, Louise Penny noted she’s busy
promoting next year’s Anthony Award winner, which came out last month.
(Actually I said that, not Louise. I do have to wonder if it’s time to rename
the best novel award in Louise’s honor and retire her from the pool. Give
someone else a chance.)

12:40 20 on the
20s: Joe Clifford (That’s right. A panel at 10 and the next at 12:40. So I ate
lunch and did a little shopping. Sue me.)

There are few more
fascinating people than Joe Clifford. Promoting his newest Jay Porter novel, he
also let slip plans for a book of the things his seven-year-old son Holden
says. Having followed Holden on Facebook since he was born (all right,
technically I’m friends with Joe, but Holden’s way more fun), this book
promises to be far more entertaining than Shit
my Dad Says.

In discussing Jay
and the inspiration for the novels, Joe uttered what might have been the best
bon mot of the conference: Teen angst is what happens when you realize the
things your parents taught you when they were your only source of information
are untrue.

1:00 Confined
Crimes: Small town settings – the advantages and limitations of using a smaller
stage for crimes.

With my Penns River
series set in a small town, this is always a destination panel for me. (Also a
soft spot in my heart, as a small town discussion in Cleveland broke my
Bouchercon panel cherry.) Lynn Cahoon made sure I wasn’t disappointed, leading
a sterling cast through a wide-ranging discussion.

Small town settings
appeal to Lori Roy because you can’t escape your past in a small town.

Eryk Pruitt: You’ll
never get better samples of small town dialog than at the local BBQ shop.

Lori Roy: Outsiders’
eyes can change everything. Bringing an outsider as the editor of the Boston Globe was what made the Spotlight story possible.

(Note to future
panelists: when you say something like, “I write character-driven fiction,” it
can’t help but sound like you’re saying your peers on the panel are hacks who write
cartoon characters.)

Eryk Pruitt talked
about the feeling of isolation in small towns. Spoke of taking a break from
work and seeing the grain elevator and water tower are the town’s perpetual
skyline, and how the banal and gossipy conversations never change, except for
the names. While everyone in town is close, they can feel isolated from the rest
of the world and end up thinking, “Is this all there is for me?”

Karin Salvalaggio learned
while researching a book that residents of Bozeman MT often left their doors
unlocked. This sometimes became an issue when college students, walking home
drunk, got tired and let themselves in to crash on strangers’ couches. (She’d
done so well on the liars’ panel the other day I had to ask her if this story
was bullshit.)

4:00 The Blue
Detectives: Police procedurals

Another typical
destination panel for me. The Penns River books are primarily procedurals, and
I scored a procedural panel in Raleigh. Caro Ramsey kept things moving and fun
with great rapport with her panel, especially Jeffrey Siger. Caro’s smart and
funny, but with her Scots accent she almost needs subtitles at times.

Andrew Case: “A
falling knife has no handle. Never try to catch it.” Used in real estate and
stocks when people try to time the bottom of a market.

Caro Ramsey:
Scottish police are unarmed except for batons and sarcasm. They’re taught to
engage in a non-threatening manner. She admits it works because they’re pretty
sure they’re dealing with a suspect who does not himself have a gun.

Jeffrey Siger’s pet
peeve with police stories is some writers’ need to wrap up every little detail.

Andrew Case’s is when
a non-cop breaks a bunch of rules to solve a case and never faces any
consequences because he was successful.

Jeffrey Siger: You
act differently when you carry a gun. (Not said as a good or bad thing or as a
political statement. Just an explanation why he doesn’t wear one even though
he’s qualified and has a permit.)

5:30 Noir is the
Beat-Up Black: You are compelled like a victim to a dark alley to attend this
panel, even knowing it can only end…

Noir has achieved
the status of pornography in the writing world: No one can define it, but
everyone knows what it is when they see it. (I’ll have more to say on that in a
few weeks.) Rob Brunet’s panel did yeoman’s work describing their own
definitions, begun by Rob quoting Gary Phillips: Noir is a doomed character on
a doomed path.

Christopher
Brookmyer: The level of violence that must appear onscreen should be tied to what
you need to show about the character.

Christopher
Brookmyer: Film can show what violence looks like but only books can describe
what it feels like.

Saturday evening
was spent on a fun dinner and drink (just one, thank you very much) with John
McFetridge and his lovely wife Laurie Reid; Seana Graham, Peter Rozovsky, Dave
McKee, and a gentleman whose name I apologize for not remembering. (John, if
you have it, please comment.) An early panel I wanted to see the next day would
be followed by lots of driving, so one drink was it for me.

Sunday, October
15

8:30 The Bodies
Politic: Political mysteries and how politics can lead to murder

Political thrillers
aren’t usually my cup of tea, but moderator Robin Spano and panelist Nik Korpon
are friends and I hate to blow off a day of any conference (I paid for the
whole thing, damn it), so I went. Good move. Robin nailed her first panel as
moderator and Nik was as good as expected. Other highlights:

Tom Rosenstiel: It’s
acceptable in Washington to lie to a microphone but not face-to-face to a
colleague.

Tom Rosenstiel: The
political center in Washington meets privately and informally because to appear
publicly as anything other than pure invites a primary challenge.

Mark Greaney:
Reading David McCullouch’s book on John Adams shows what we’re going through
now is nothing new.

Cheryl L. Reed:
Other countries—such as Ukraine—have already dealt with their fake news crises.
We just have to figure ours out.

And so we were
done. Next time I’ll talk a little about the peripheral entertainment that made
the week such a rousing success, followed by a comparison of border agents of
various countries, namely Canada and the United States.

Lots of ways to order Res Mall

Worst Enemies, Book 1 of the Penns River series

Click the cover to buy

Grind Joint, Book 2 of the Penns River series

Click the cover to buy

Forte 4: A Dangerous Lesson Available Now! Click the image below to purchase.

Chicago Private Investigator Nick Forte’s official task is to find out what he can about Jennifer Vandenbusch’s new suitor, who fails to measure up in the eyes of the family matriarch, Jennifer’s grandmother. This seems par for the course for Forte, as his personal life has been leading him through a series of men who treat women badly, though none nearly as badly as the Thursday Night Slasher. Forte lives on the fringes of the investigation run by his old friend Sonny Ng until elements of Forte’s case and life dovetail with the Slasher investigation, leading to Forte discovering more about the crimes—and himself—than he wanted to know.

The Man in the Window

"...we see him getting rougher, tougher and darker book by book. There are multiple twists in the end, two cool sidekicks, good action scenes and some pretty nifty Chanderlisms in this book, adding up to a perfect PI read"--Sons of Spade blog

The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of (Nick Forte 2)

It's a kind of authorial magic that The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of works as a tribute and as a story, and that neither aspect interferes in the least with the other… I can imagine this book finding its way into a class on writing crime fiction as an example of how to pay tribute to one's predecessors while at the same time writing a story that can stand on its own. It's an impressive accomplishment.--- Peter Rozovsky, Detectives Beyond Borders, December 18, 2014

About Me

Two of my Nick Forte Private investigator novels (A SMALL SACRIFICE and THE MAN IN THE WINDOW) received nominations for Shamus Awards. I also write a series of police procedurals set in the economically depressed town of Penns River PA, published by Down & Out Books. A non-fiction essay, “Chandler’s Heroes,” appeared in Spinetingler Magazine online in October of 2013.
I live in Laurel MD with The Beloved Spouse.